Vengeance: The Sith Inquisitor
by HelenaUrie
Summary: SWTOR. A backstory for my Jedi Knight and Sith Inquisitor. Both born into a life of servitude, five-year-old twins Elar'a and Lish'a promise to be freed from their chains together. But when one is sold off-world as a potential sex slave, events and feelings change... And so hones the future Darth Nox's lust for vengeance.
1. Through Victory, my Chains are Broken

**A/N: Yes, I do play SWTOR, just not often. Still, this is one of my favorite video games. (Since my opinion may seem absurd to some viewers, know that I am not much of a gamer.) Even if its storylines may be inferior to other Star Wars content, I still find it enjoyable.**

* * *

The gloomy night sky of Dromund Kaas was, as always, starless. Rumbling clouds perpetually brought about darkness to the jungle world, and with the deafening cymbal's clash and brilliant flash of white light erupting from the desolate grey, Elar'a knew a thunderstorm was soon due.

Good— that meant she and Lish'a could finally get a bath, even if it were from a downpour.

 _Master's been mean. Why can't we even shower? The smell is terrible!_ Though deemed more physically incompetent than the average slave and thus permitted to toil less, Elar'a's pungent clothes were still smothered with sweat, dust and grime from work on Lord Grathan's luxurious estate. Her nails were crusted, and her shabby smock tattered, and for the Emperor's sake, she and Lish'a were considerably malnourished. Some of the slaves (usually the ones who had lost their offspring to other Lords and Moffs and what-not) were kind enough to share with the five-year-old twins, but most of the time, it was every person for themselves.

Elar'a and Lish'a held a different situation, of course. Ever since their father's death at the hands of their Master, they'd vowed to be together and support each other 'til the end of His Majesty, their Immortal Emperor. They shared their precious food, warmed each other when the Dromund Kaas night-air was too chilly, comforted each other during sickness, and embraced one another in times of distress. Some of the other slaves admired them for their close bond, while a few of the more aspiring ones took this as a weakness.

(With a lack of proper equipment, severe pneumonia without medical treatment, and an emaciated body, their mother had died during childbirth... but from what the Master told them, she had been weak, right from the start. Their father had been stronger. At least he had fought for his freedom. At least he tried to break his chains.

(Out here, in the dire realm of their slavery, there was no tolerance for fragility and impotence. Either you work and maybe kill, or you get whipped and suffer decapitation. Survival was harsh, and fate was indifferent.)

Boom... CRASH! Like the awesome rage and might of their Glorious, Omnipotent Emperor, the fearsome lightning stuck once more. Faraway, Elar'a thought she'd heard the piercing shriek of a vine cat.

Lying beside Elar'a on the dampening grass outside their musty, decrepit tent, Lish'a shuddered and curled up in fright, a strand of blonde hair dangling down onto rosy, even if ample no more, cheeks. Green eyes locked with matching green eyes as those quivering lips softly inquired, "do you think we should stay outside? Master wouldn't be pleased if we get sick and can't work tomorrow."

In her mind, Elar'a could not suppress a snarl—

 _Master... Master... Master... always a Master. Can't she see that we must show defiance to break our chains? I love her and all, but if she keeps bowing down, she'll just be a hindrance! And then I'll have to stay with her..._

 _But I won't break my vow. I at least have that amount of decency._

She would not forget the bonfire, the holding of blood-ravaged hands as they solemnly pledged to His Revered Majesty: _"Free together!"_

"Nah, I think we'll be fine... I'll cover for you if you get sick, okay?" Despite Elar'a's frustration with Lish'a's cowardice, she flashed an assuring smile, patting her twin's thin shoulder. Through their strange bond, the raven-haired child nudged at her sister's mellow ( _weak... weak! Pitiful! Abiding, conforming to those stupid, snotty slavers! I can keep her safe for now, but what would she do on her own!?)_ , green-blue-hued presence. Gradually, she felt that bluish tinge trickle back. _(Finally! She's learning how to do this! Finally!)_

Elar'a allowed herself a grin. Once they were strong enough, they could shatter their chains. They would slay their way to liberation.

 _They always said we were special, that we had what they called "the Force", the "Dark Side"... that's what the Sith use, right? We'll escape together. We'll be free together, dominating the galaxy as the good Sith—not the bad kind that punish and starve and beat us, no! —, purging_ every _existent iniquitous Hutt-slime!_

 _I've already killed one of them. I'll kill another. I'll kill more. I'll kill the last existing slaver in the whole wide galaxy, so we can be safe._

 _Their howls of misery and suffering will be a fabulous harmony to our laughs of glee!_

The plump droplets began tumbling from the sky, dripping onto the overgrowth. Feeling the rain dance on her skin and wash away the dirt, Elar'a pounced up from the ground, then offered a sullied hand to Lish'a.

The hands that reached back were already clean from the rain's bath ( _how!? Elar'a could not help but wonder incredulously)._

"C'mon. Everyone's in their cots right now, let's climb up the hill and try to see The Wall!"

Her twin gladly took it, and together, in the rain, they lurked out from the slave campsite. Elar'a loosened her tightly bundled hair, letting the thick raven locks fall down her shoulders. The water was beginning to drench their clothes, but she'd been practicing her extraordinary abilities, and if she could get it to the right amount, maybe they'd be able to dry the rough and patchy cloth...right?

Above, the lightning was growing fiercer than what any recent thunderstorm had brought. The dazzling white blaze, as if tendrils of the illustrious Emperor's wrath, seemed quite like what she had used on the first slaver she'd ever decimated...

 _Blinding purple lightning extended out from her tiny fingertips in a fit of acute fury and boiling hatred and hurdled towards the foe. Instantly, the obese swine plummeted to the ground, involuntarily convulsing as the arching electric curls slithered up his body and sucked away at the blood, injecting the veins and flesh with its lethal venoms. As the slaver pleaded for the young yet revenge-lusted child to stop, Elar'a had cackled and mocked at the begging victim._

 _As blood-shot, bright green eyes morphed into a vivid and sickening yellow-orange glow, she only let the lightning intensify._

 _All that practice on those wild beasts weren't for nothing, and today, for the death of their Father and the attempt to corrupt her virginity, HE WILL PAY—_

 _He had been the menace that day, but who is the Victor now!?_

 _The lightning encircled the man, shooting up the spine, sprinting to the brain and heart and other major organs, setting aflame the fat-choked arteries, igniting him from the inside—_

 _When she was finished, all that was left of the slaver was a heaping mess of sizzling, unrecognizable flesh._

 _At the sight, she flexed her fingers and tried to ignore the singed fabric of her rough gloves... then found that she could not contain her delirious, overjoyed laughter._

Together they'd made their way up the hill—it wasn't the highest spot nearby, for the trees and durasteel-clad buildings seemed to loom on for eternity—, where a fatigued, bleary-eyed Lish'a settled down and watched the Wall's officers and soldiers bumble with activity.

Meanwhile, Elar'a blithely whirled around in the downpour, letting the raindrops fall down her skin. As she twirled and giggled in joy, she proudly chanted her favorite Code, the one in which she had, unlike the code slaves were forced to follow, contemplated considerably on:

"Peace is a lie, there is only passion!"

Perched atop one of the large, mossy boulders, Lish'a let out a sigh of exasperation; her twin may buy into this whole power ordeal to get them out of slavery, but what good was a rebellion against the Sith? The better way was to compose peace, to attempt and negotiate their way out, or maybe use a mind-trick! (She had seen Sith use them before! They were fascinating and _definitely_ more useful than brutal power, and since it only required a wave of the hand, it was probably _much_ easier than retaliating with a fight! Knowledge and patience are more useful and desirable than what brutal force would ever be...) However, there was no use in stopping Elar'a; if this was what she believed, then so be it. As long as they are unhinged of shackles together, anything was fine, and anything was worth it.

Behind her, as she marveled at the roaring sky, a prideful Elar'a continued incanting:

"Though Passion, I gain Strength!

Through Strength, I gain Power!

Through Power, I gain Victory!

Through Victory, my Chains are Broken;

The Force shall Free Me!"

* * *

 **A/N.**

 **I'm not sure how to feel on this one. It's... perhaps subpar to some of my other works, but at the same time I felt the need to write it.**


	2. The Force Shall Free Me

**A/N: this is where the inspiration bunny escaped its burrow… though personally, I do find the ending satisfactory.**

* * *

Approximately a decade later.

* * *

As she worked in the Nalis Quarry, the horrid memories still lingered in her head, despite how much the voice was execrated, despite how dreadfully she wished it would go away. The stupidly, shamefully humane part of her mind still clung on—

 _"No! NO, ELAR'A, SAVE ME! HELP!"_

 _Waterworks had been pouring down Lish'a's face as she was dragged away by the slavers. They'd been scouring through the slaves, searching for potential sex workers to send off-world to Hutt space, to be sacrificed in the red-light districts of Nar Shadaa and appeal to Imperial-allying, grotesque slugs._

 _Amongst all who were selected, her sister had been the lone non-twi'lek, as well as the youngest member. SHE DIDN'T DESERVE THIS FATE! She could have been saved, she could have been saved, if she'd tried harder—_

 _(At least that was what Elar'a had thought, all those years ago, when her mind was still riddled with naivety and the notion that Lish'a would never commit such transgressions.)_

 _They'd been separated that day, to work on different foundations for a new project of His Majesty's. The sight in which Elar'a was stationed at had been particularly filthy, which was perhaps why the slavers had not checked on anyone in her area..._

 _Although between the twins, with those damn curly blonde hair and sparkling green eyes, Lish'a was the one who was renounced for beauty anyway. If the placements were full to begin with, then Elar'a still would not have had a chance to join her sister in her newfound suffering._

 _She had sensed Lish'a's cries. Without a second thought, the slave had sprinted toward her twin's location, desperate to find the young captive, and she had spotted the transport lifting off—_

 _Reached out with her coarse-skinned hands, strained as hard as she could to grasp it with invisible claws, to PULL IT BACK—_

 _Nonetheless, ultimately, the transport's boosters out-competed the slave's powers..._

But she had been wrong. So utterly wrong.

Such soft-heartedness only belonged in her nightmares.

She'd overheard the slavers ramble about how the sex slaves received drastically better treatment than the sordid ones of Dromund Kaas, that _they could even earn credits_ if they worked hard enough—

Of course, she was not irritated, _then_. Her sister had not even reached teenage years and had already lost her purity to hungered hounds.

During lonely nights, through the bond that they'd managed to manifest during childhood years, she'd comforted Lish'a through sleeplessness and weeping, prayed with her for a better future. In return, Lish'a had promised to earn enough credits to buy Elar'a out of slavery.

 _(But oh,_ she'd increasingly thought, _how petty was Lish'a... She had food and shelter and a decent amount of credits traded only for the loss of virginity, whereas I am rigorously laboring away with a near-broken back and calloused, bleeding hands, barely managing to get by with starvation in the wasted slums of the shackled._

 _Though still enslaved to the providing of pleasure to customers, she was freer than I.)_

But one night, two years after their separation, Lish'a had remained wholly silent as Elar'a felt a turbulent rush of emotions pass through their bond. It took quite the prodding and cautious peering for Lish'a to finally, and reluctantly, answer...

 _"The Jedi came along and rescued all the sex slaves. I'm... I'm free, 'Lar'a. I'm free... I'm sorry."_

And that was the end.

In a wild fury, the bond was snapped. Unprecedented agony, more painful than even the harshest whip, had pierced through their minds; but did it matter? She'd abandoned her, SHE'D FORSAKEN HER TO THE FAMISHED, UNYIELDING JAWS OF SLAVERY—

This was— _obscene!_

The bonfire and life-blood-seeping hands, the _promise_ , all for _naught—_

So, that night, amid a pounding headache (or... heartache?) she took away the apostrophe from her former name. Now, she was only Elara—other than the surname to honor their sire, there shall be no remaining connection between the enslave and the freed. Teary-eyed and utterly cheated, yes, but now also crazed with a desire to bring upon a massacre...

In the midst of a starless midnight, a trail of blood was etched in the rummaged Jungle. Corpses of wild beasts, hopelessly slain, was proof enough of her spite. Another thick blanket of frenzy was gifted upon the cluttered, perpetually towering trees.

The next morning, as the glowing electro-whip once more struck her scar-laced spine, yellow eyes lit ablaze in reply.

As fast as a bolt charged out from a pulled blaster trigger, the electro-whip flung out from the slaver's hands. In less than ten minutes, to the astonishment of her fellow slaves, all the masters were dead.

* * *

It was 'till a few years after that Elara picked up the Jedi Code after hearing it recited in disdain by one of the Lords, and, for once, she had an agreeing opinion with the snob. Then had she finally realized _she'd_ tried to enforce primitive versions of that cancerous doctrine upon _her_ self ever since _she_ 'd heard a captive Republican utter the first verse.

By now, the nightmares had long gone.

What fool was she, advocating for _peace_!? Ah, such gullibility, such dreamy-eyed idealism, so vastly quixotic in this dire galaxy. How had that imbecile's blood-twin even tolerated initially those pacifist teachings? It deserved a good, hard laugh, and in the end, it received one.

That night, she'd almost choked on her stale stew at the thought of just how ridiculous her blood-twin's fantasy was.

Perhaps she'd had angelic crystal butterflies in her heart once, but _she_ had seized those already fading flickers of light and love and compassion and crushed them ruthlessly by the palm.

And now all that remained was a black, raging furnace, a splintered wasteland-heart, ravaged and plagued with the wild, unrelenting torrents of bleakness and loathe unsheathed from the Dark.

 _Silly weakling._

 _One day, the Jedi shall fall._

 _Peace is a lie. There is only passion._

* * *

Booze reeked in the musty air; faint jizz could be heard playing in the background by a band of Bith. The seedy cantina was full of mostly-naked girls donning outlandish bikinis and a small flap of fabric that hid the vulva region of the feminine body. Normally Elara could care less about the conversations that buzzed around these drunken officers and Sith, but this time, as she twirled around on her thick pole and brooded in her miserable profession, she could not help but latch parasitically onto a certain conversation.

It was a vigorous, incensed scream-fest about some kriffin' Jedi that had managed to halt the attack placed on the origin planet of the Sith's sworn enemy. She thought it to be humorous at first, with the Sith's constant stumbling and loud, infuriated pounding on the table, until she picked up the name...

"...Hero of Tython!"

 _Hero of Tython._ HERO OF TYTHON.

" _Someday, when I become a hero, I'll even go to Tython! I heard there's a looooot of golden sunshine and pretty flowers there."_

And she knew, just _knew,_ could sense it in that strange "Force" that she was apparently sensitive to...

It was _her._

Yes. "Lish'a Aniyo"—with a holler, the Sith gave the foul name of the supposed Hero.

 _How dare_ she claim herself glory when the shackled still resided in grueling work? _How dare_ that scum ridicule her twin sister, the one who had selflessly protected her, who had brought along solace during the darkest times!?

Traitor. Liar. Fiend.

 _I'll murder you... I'll murder you..._

 _WHY WAS SHE ALWAYS FAVORED!? WHY DID SHE ALWAYS END WITH THE BETTER FATE!? FAME, ADMIRATION, ACKNOWLEDGEMENT, YOU NAME IT...!? AND YET HERE I AM, STILL SELLING MY BODY AS SOME DETESTED, WORTHLESS LOWLIFE!_

 _I ABHOR YOU._

 _You were always weak,_ you do not deserve this _, I WILL TAKE WHAT IS MINE—_

 _Just you wait..._

 _Just you wait...!_

Slap!

A remorseless smack to the face forced Elara out from her thoughts. Oh, yes. The pleasured life of servitude—now as a sex slave.

Just like what the Fiendused to be _._

But no, she would not allow herself to be conquered as the Fiend had been. She would make herself noticed, for only then will she move up the ladder to bountiful triumph and unlimited power. She'd already decorated herself into an "exotic" specimen: a treacherously elegant Corellian panther who dared adorn heavy scarlet around the eyes and on the lips. And one day she would find her way out, she would utilize her power and inflict upon Fiend the ultimate torture, and SHE WILL WATCH WITH PURE DELIGHT AS THE TRAITOR TAKES A FINAL GASPING BREATH BEFORE HER EYES, THEN SLUMP TO THE GROUND—

"What're you waiting for!? You have a customer, _slave!_ "

 _I'm not a slave, I'M A PERSON,_

 _AND I WILL DESTROY YOU, AS I ONE DAY WILL THE FIEND—_

With a twisted smirk and the tinge of orange spreading across her sharp, violent irises, she tore herself from her frenetic mind and lithely stepped down from her performance set. With a graceful bow that hid the savage nature, she murmured, "yes, of course."

The alluring smile that lingered upon the charming face was enough to hide her glowers and bile-tainted intentions.

 _Of course, I'll annihilate you... after all, I must hone my abilities if I am to bring an end to_ that _pitiful scum's existence._

She silently trailed behind the bulking Sith, the fervent rage well concealed behind an, other than the seemingly craving smirk, impassive mask as she plotted, plotted... She bit her lower lip, trying not to let the warm, tingling lightning give its familiar and immensely destructive fizzle between her fingertips... no, she would not incinerate him _yet_...

Into the enclosure, onto the bed…

Sleek hands ran along the chest, bringing about arousal as she took to undress herself while being brushed by a sensitive spot.

Indeed, he was an urgent, starved one...

 _Wait... Endure... Wait for it..._

And finally, when he began removing her front flap, she abruptly pushed the Sith away. Vicious purple tendrils extended from flexible, if not atrociously weathered, fingers.

The other slaves would've let themselves be dominated, but her, she was an unorthodox one. Obedience and submission were not among her strong suits. She demanded herself be the champion...

 _Alarmed green eyes, darting between predator and prey—"Elar'a, mercy is the better way!"_

 _No. The galaxy held no mercy for her, therefore she shall grant none back upon the galaxy. Just how obtuse was her twin!? The blonde fiend had always fought for equality, and THIS_ IS _equality!_

 _With a wicked grin of gratification from the formerly naive dullard (but no more would she allow stupidity and morals to hold her back, no more would she permit cowardice, SHE WILL ACQUIRE AS MUCH POWER AND GRANDEUR AS SHE PLEASES), the sleen who had attempted to attack slumped to the ground._

It turned out that this Sith had only been an acolyte and held no ability to repel the attack. The fool was shoved cruelly into a wall as the vibrant violet vines callously caressed the skin.

Oh, the show was of utmost splendor. Quite entertaining indeed, even if the sole audience was also the plot-driving performer.

 _"Why are you so envious of me!? Elar'a, you've changed, you're becoming a livid, chaotic, venomous and esurient snake—"_

You _are the snake! Jealous!? JEALOUS!? You broke your promise, you betrayed me, you_ abandoned _me! Do you know how ravenous I am for you to suffer the same agony!?_

Euphoric, raucous cackling echoed the small enclosure as those gleaming yellow eyes flickered into the bloodiest red.

 _"Cease your accusations! I never wished to leave you behind— let go of your hate, see the_ truth _! You're a good person, I beg you, don't go down the wrong path!"_

 _LIAR! Accursed fool! From the beginning, I, the Protector, had been the belittled and teased and uncherished one but still I'd held my unwavering presence by your side, and now_ you _, the one my unsophisticated mind had so loyally trusted, made me the Deceived!_

 _You left me in the cold grasp of indignity!_

The lightning screeched and whirled throughout the room in a hurricane of energy. Without notice, the Sith had soon succumbed to the superior power of her ruinous attack. Hideous streaks of silver marred the exposed skin of the unfortunate corpse—all the reveling Elara's marvelous doing.

A single tear of exultation smeared the scarlet of her eye-shadow. The clear liquid diluted, a crimson droplet rolled down.

 _Yes... yes...! Another dead, another dead... another dead...! Lish'a Aniyo, you will face my wrath, I will show you_ truepower!

I've seeked retribution for years, and surely, I could wait a few more…

But in the end, I shall be paramount, I shall succeed!

* * *

Thus, with the discovery of her tremendous Force-sensitivity from another fellow Sith who had picked up the repulsive yet satisfying wails of torment and then observed the scene of a lightning-encased corpse crumpling to the ground, Elara Aniyo was sent to the gelid planet of Korriban...

The Force broke her chains, and now she was, alas,

Freed.

* * *

Once the ghost of Aloysious dissipated into the chilly air of the starship Fury, it was with finality that no more did Elara Aniyo exist.

 _The Fiend had always been subpar in strength and mind._

 _(But never had the Fiend been swathed by the ashes of the Dead, though nor is it guiltless and angelic; the beast just has a few drops less of blood on its hands—)_

There is only Lord Kallig, noble and great.

 _(And putrid and vile and brimming with all things hateful, though the divinity of the soul mattered no more—)_

 _Let the past's phantoms die in flames._

Unlike her rival, she will make her ancestor proud.

Upon activation, the lethal beam of blood-light crackled and hissed, just like her frigid, bitter, malice-ridden heart.

 _A feeble, mortal body, doomed for the void, writhing in agony as she unleashed her crepitating scourge..._

 _She will giggle as she takes the decaying entrails and makes a gorgeous necklace._

And when the crimson lightsaber plunges into the Hero of Tython's chest, she shall have her revenge.

 _Murder and mayhem await!_


End file.
